


Can You Trust Me?

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [48]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Age Play, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Licence Plate Game, Non-Sexual Age Play, Old Writing, Worried Gibbs, Ziva is sorta like the cool aunt and the worried aunt rolled into one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: McGee goes missing so Ziva starts to look for him in unlikely locations, and gets out of her depth when she finds Timmy instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I see we all made it through the beginning of the month! I have almost 20,000 words on my original novel, and if my momentum continues, then I will maybe finish the month early, and get to write some more here before NaNo is up! There's going to be a second fic immediately following this one published later in the month, but this is the set-up for that one, so bear with me! For now, enjoy!

It seemed like today was just going to be another day at the office, as much as any day could be "just" another day at NCIS. Ziva was musing over files she had gotten on one of the suspects of their latest case about a decapitated petty officer. But as if English wasn't hard enough, the files were written in such spidery handwriting it took Ziva several times reading the same sentence to understand what was on the page, and she had to transfer it to another paper in her own legible writing to absorb what the English was telling her. She sighed and ran a hand through her curls, shaking her head. Perhaps she could see if McGee could read this monstrosity of penmanship. He seemed to have the messiest handwriting of the team, because he was used to typing code at lightning speed, and his hands struggled to keep up with his thoughts. If anyone could read messy handwriting, it was him.

She looked over at the probationary agent's desk, to find him frowning in consternation at the small stack of mail on his desk, before turning to his computer, typing something in quickly, and glancing back at the pile of mail. Something was bothering him, but she couldn't understand why he would be so nervous about some letters he had not yet looked through. "McGee," she said.

Her voice must have cut through his thoughts, because he jumped slightly and turned to her. "Yeah?"

"How good are you at reading handwriting? I can hardly make heads or toes of these files."

"Heads or tails," McGee corrected, almost on reflex. "I can see what I can make out of it, but I can't read handwriting much worse than my own."

Ziva nodded and brought the files over to McGee's desk. "I have been writing what I can make out on separate paper so as not to damage the actual files, before reading the notes as a whole. If you can copy down what you can make out, I would be grateful."

McGee nodded. "I'm waiting for warrants anyway. Give me a little bit, I should be able to get at least one file to you soon."

"Thank you," Ziva said, going back to her desk and rereading what she had already made out of the scrawls.

Gibbs' desk phone rang and he answered it. "Gibbs...yeah." He hung up and stood. "McGee."

Ziva groaned as her only way out of a headache was being pulled out of the office by her boss. "Yeah?"

"Can you really read the doctor's handwriting?" he asked.

McGee looked down at the file he was reading, then up at his boss. "Yeah? I'm typing up a manuscript of it now, since my handwriting wouldn't be much better off."

Gibbs looked impressed, as much as the man ever could, and Ziva was slightly surprised. "You stay here and finish that as soon as you can. One of our suspects just tried to bolt. Tony, Ziva, with me."

Ziva grabbed her go-bag and jogged to keep up with Gibbs' long strides, taking one last glance at McGee and finding him staring at the pile of mail on his desk again. Her stomach flipped for a reason she couldn't pin down.

* * *

Their suspect was whining for a lawyer and refused to say anything productive the entire drive back to the Yard, which was grating on Ziva's nerves. She was all too happy to throw him in interrogation and walk back to the bullpen while he stewed, except there was a minor difference from when she and the others had left.

McGee was suspiciously absent.

She walked over to his desk and gave it a once over, to see what he was doing before he left. All of the files were closed and in a pile off to the side of his work space, so he must have finished that. He could be getting a refill of coffee, except for the fact that there was still a cup on his desk. She felt it. It was lukewarm. He had been gone for a while, then.

Tony walked in the bullpen. "Where's Probie gone now?" he asked, irritated. "I was hoping to get him to do some of my paperwork."

Gibbs head-slapped Tony as he walked past. "McGee wouldn't up and leave the office without leaving some sort of note behind. He's most likely with Abby."

"I do not think--" Ziva started to say, but Ducky walked in, speaking over her.

"Ah, Jethro, you're back! Tell me, did you happen to see Timothy on your way in? I came up here to check on him, though it's clear he hasn't returned to his desk yet."

Ziva's stomach churned again. McGee's furtive looks at his mail first, now an unexplained disappearance. This did not bode well for them. "No, Duck. Why, did he come down to see you?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky nodded. "He was quite distraught, too. Something about his mail that got him in a twist. I tried to talk to him, but he left before I got much of a chance. Are you sure you haven't seen him?"

Ziva dropped to a crouch and sifted through McGee's trash, where a few envelopes were sitting at the top of the bin. One of them had a handwritten address to Timothy McGee, and a return-to-sender sticker for...Ziva swore, loudly. "Gibbs, McGee got a letter from his father."

The look of shock and fear on Gibbs' face only amplified Ziva's anxieties. Gibbs turned to Ducky, urgency in his eyes. "When did he come down to see you, Duck? And was it McGee or Timmy who you were talking to?"

"It was a mix of both," Ducky said worriedly. "I had simply thought he didn't want to be left behind, and came back up here to sulk with some food or another. That had to be 20 minutes ago, at least."

Tony rushed around his desk and picked up his phone. "I'm calling him, hopefully he'll pick up," he said.

Ziva stood as Gibbs rushed out of the bullpen, the only words she caught out of his mouth, "check" and "Abby" as he ran through the office.

Ducky worried with his hands. "I should go back down to autopsy in case he shows up and tries to talk with me again," he said, hurrying off and muttering what Ziva only could assume were obscenities under his breath.

Ziva remained where she was, caught up in her thoughts. This had happened before, or at least something like it. Gibbs had told her a story during one of her first visits after she had commented on how much of a handful the boys were, that Timmy had once had a meltdown and took...what was it? The "Metro" to his house, where he had holed up in his room until Gibbs had found him. Maybe he had gone to his house again in an attempt to feel safe. That was what _her_ survival instincts would tell her to do. She went to her computer and looked up the phone number for the local Metro station, dialing it as fast as her fingers would allow. "Hello, yes, this is Ziva David, I work for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, and I was wondering if you could get me in contact with security?" she said quickly.

"Is there a problem?" the man on the other end of the receiver asked.

"Not a major threat," Ziva was quick to assure. "There is a man who is crucial to one of our cases who has slipped away from our security and I was hoping to see if he had used your services to go back to his home."

"I'll transfer a description to security, what does he look like?"

"Uh...six foot one, green eyes, blondish hair, slightly heavy-set. Probably wearing a suit. If you find him, please do not approach him, it is highly likely he has PTSD and could be reliving a flashback. Notify me where you see him, I will be right over to pick him up." She rattled off her cell number.

"All right. I'll get a notification out to security, expect a call shortly."

"Thank you," Ziva said, hanging up. "Tony, I have an idea on where McGee might be. If Gibbs asks, tell him I've gone to ride the Metro."

Tony looked up, quite obviously a little lost. "Huh? Yeah, okay."

Ziva hurried out of the bullpen, skipping the elevator in favor of using the stairs. She had hopped in her car and was driving out of the lot when her phone rang. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"Miss David?" The man from before asked. "I think we found the man you're talking about. He's currently at L'Enfant Plaza, sitting on a bench. He doesn't seem like he's going to move anytime soon, however we will keep an eye on him until you get here."

"Yes, thank you," Ziva said, hanging up and tossing her phone into the passenger's seat of her car, before flooring the gas.

* * *

The ride to the station took too long and Ziva was running out to the security guards waiting for her at the entrance. "Ziva David, NCIS," she said, showing her badge. "The man I called about is still here, yes?"

"Right this way, Miss David," one of the security guards said, nodding and walking away at a quick pace.

Ziva followed silently until they reached the only empty area of the station, a clear 10-foot radius between the commuters this time of day and where McGee was sitting. "We made sure that our commuters left him alone without any of us approaching him," the guard said. "We didn't want him attacking anyone."

"I am not sure that would have been a problem, but thank you," Ziva said. "If you could give us some space while I talk to him?"

The guard nodded and motioned to her partner to back up.

Ziva approached McGee slowly, barely recognizing him. His shoulders were hunched inward, and his knees were tucked up under his chin, so he was curled in a ball. His arms were wrapped tightly around his legs and he was staring off into the distance, seeing nothing. Ziva knew that who she was seeing wasn't actually McGee at all, but Timmy. Even though she had only gotten to see the boy a few times, she knew at the very least she wasn't talking to the agent who was helping her read through files. She took a few more steps before the boy seemed to notice the sound and flinch away. Ziva stopped where she stood, struggling with wanting to move closer, to get Timmy out of there as fast as she could, and making sure he came back _not_  scarred for life. She wracked her brain for English terms of endearment. "Timmy, love?" Wait, that was more British than American, wasn't it? Oh, well. It would have to do. And Timmy looked over at her, at the very least. Though he was looking _through_ her rather than _at_ her. "Timmy, are you all right?" she asked, taking another step, holding her hands palms-out so he could see she was unarmed.

The boy looked away from her and to the ground, and Ziva could see now that he was shaking. "Timmy, love, I need an answer."

"I-I-I'm f-fine," Timmy stuttered. His voice was too soft and quiet, and he didn't move or release his grip for one second.

"I find that hard to believe, love. You scared everyone quite a bit when you left NCIS."

"I-I-I j-ju-just wa-want-ted t-t-to go h-h-home..." Timmy admitted.

Ziva took another step closer. She could almost reach out and touch the boy. She had to get him to calm down somehow, but she wasn't trained for this. What had Tony told her to do? Oh! Be relatable! "Sometimes I want to go home too, love," she said softly. "Did you know that?"

Timmy looked up at her, finally focusing on her. He shook his head.

"I do. The only problem is, my home does not feel like home. My father has broken my family, and I cannot put it back together. You are lucky. You have a new family who is always there to help you."

Timmy uncurled a little. "Papa would let you in the family if you wanted to join?"

Ziva smiled sadly and took one last step, before sitting on the bench next to Timmy, while giving him needed space. "You are a good person, Timmy. You make sure that others are safe, even at the expense of yourself. You only kill or harm when necessary. I am not like you. I do not deserve such things. But," Ziva said, turning to look at Timmy in the eyes. "I _can_  make sure that you get the family you deserve. Your papa and Tony were very worried about you, and Ducky was as well. Will you let me take you back to them? We can keep you safe from anything that might want to harm you."

Timmy chewed his lip and retreated in on himself again. "Daddy--Dad mailed me today. He wanted to know what I was doing with my job. Make sure I wasn't 'wasting away my life.'" Ziva could hear the air quotes in Timmy's voice. "I worked for years to make sure I could be free from him, and here he is--he found me again, and I can't get away this time without giving up everything."

"You do not have to walk away, Timothy," Ziva said, placing a hand on his shoulder gently.

Timmy stiffened, and Ziva worried that she had crossed a boundary, but when Timmy started shaking harder she realized he was crying. She was still unfamiliar with what to do in these situations, but she had often seen Gibbs soothe Tony or Timmy when one of them was pitching a fit at his house. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him sideways so he was resting on her, and rubbed circles on his back.

She really, _really_  hoped she was doing this right.

Timmy stayed in his current position for the duration of his silent sobbing, and only pulled back when even his hiccuping stopped. He swiped a hand across his eyes and sighed. Ziva put her hands over one of his. "Can you trust me, Timmy?"

Ziva waited for a response as Timmy stared off into nothing again, and she briefly worried that she had just set back all the work she had done to calm Timmy down. But he looked up to meet her eyes and nodded. "I trust you."

"Then how about you take my hand and I take you back to your papa?" Ziva asked, flashing Timmy a pleased smile.

Timmy nodded and uncurled fully from his ball state, offering a hand for Ziva to take. She smiled at him again and took his hand, leading him away from the bench and to security. "I apologize if he scared you," she said. "Do I have to pay for a ticket for him to leave?"

"That won't be necessary, miss," the woman from before said. "Unless he lost his ticket, he should be able to pay for himself."

Ziva looked over at Timmy and found him rifling through his pockets. He pulled out a plastic rectangle that looked like a credit card, and held it up. "I still have it."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem. And you don't have to pay, Miss David, since you're just picking him up."

Ziva nodded and turned to Timmy. "You know the way out, yes? Can you show me?"

"Oh, I can--" the guard started to say, but Ziva held up a hand.

"I need to keep him aware of his surroundings," Ziva said. "I know the way out anyway." The woman nodded and left, and Ziva turned to Timmy. "Lead the way, love."

Timmy looked around, a little confused, but soon found his way to the turnstiles and out into the light of day. Ziva gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. "Thank you, love. Let me lead you to the car, and you can be back with your papa soon." Ziva walked Timmy to her car and put him in the passenger seat. "I know you're feeling very small right now, but in order for you to play the game I have planned for the ride back to the office, I need you to sit up front."

"Game?" Timmy asked, perking up.

Ziva nodded, before feeling her pockets for her cell phone, knowing she should call Gibbs and tell him to call off the search. "Timmy, can you feel if you're sitting on my phone or not? I may have left it on the seat."

The boy pushed himself off the chair a few inches and felt around the seat, before making a triumphant noise and passing his phone to Ziva. She smiled and nodded. "Thank you, love. I will call Gibbs and let him know you're all right, and then we can be on our way."

She closed the door and dialed Gibbs on her phone, walking to the driver's side door and getting in the car just as Gibbs picked up. " _Ziva_!" Gibbs barked. "Where _are_  you?!"

"Gibbs, I have Timmy with me, and I'm heading back to the Yard as soon as I finish this call," Ziva said calmly, ignoring Gibbs' question for the time being.

"You do?! Where are you two?! Are either of you hurt?! What happened?!"

"Yes. We are at L'Enfant Plaza, the stop at the Metro. Neither of us are injured, at least not outside. Timmy's mental state is certainly not ideal at the moment. As for what happened, I do not yet know. My first priority was getting Timmy back to you."

Ziva could make out heavy breathing on the other end of the line, and she knew Gibbs was trying to compose himself. "You said Timmy?"

"Yes. I do not believe McGee will be available for work for several hours at least. Timmy has to deal with a few things first."

"I'll see if I can help him with that. If not, everyone can go home early, since Tony isn't much better at the moment."

Ziva nodded, even though she knew Gibbs couldn't see her. "I will be back as soon as I can, Gibbs."

Gibbs hung up and she strapped in, instructing Timmy to do the same before starting the car. "Have you ever played the licence plate game?" she asked Timmy.

Timmy shook his head hesitantly. "Dad never liked me playing games, and I usually fall asleep in Papa's car."

"Well, the way you play is you go through the alphabet, looking for the letters in order. Whoever gets farthest is the winner, or we can play together and see if we can create a personal best?"

Timmy grinned as he heard the rules explained. "I wanna compete! I could totally beat you!"

Ziva looked over at him briefly as she drove out of the parking lot and grinned. "Oh, you can, hm? There's an _A_  right in front of us!"

" _A_  on the Volkswagen we just passed!" Timmy pointed out. " _B_  on that Toyota!"

Ziva drove on and pointed out letters every now and then, but made it clear that Timmy was going to win without making it clear she was _letting_  him win.

When they got to the NCIS parking lot, Gibbs was waiting for the two by the gate. Ziva parked right inside and as soon as the doors were unlocked Gibbs threw open Timmy's and almost dragged him out of the car, checking for superficial injuries, while spewing questions at the boy. "Are you hurt? Did anyone try to harm you? Do you feel sick? Were you trying to go home? Did you try to call me first? What were you thinking?!"

Timmy looked a little overwhelmed, but responded to the questions in turn. "No, no, a little bit, yeah, no...danger."

Gibbs held Timmy out at arm's length, looking him over once more before crushing him in a hug. "Don't _ever_  do that again!"

Timmy stiffened before relaxing under Gibbs' touch, and Ziva watched with no small amount of awe at the interaction that she knew took so much trust from both parties. Gibbs released Timmy from the hug after a minute and looked over to Ziva. "Thank you, Ziva."

Ziva waved him off. "It was no problem, really."

Gibbs shook his head. "You don't know how big of an issue this was, but it was a _huge_  deal for us. Really, I can't thank you enough. And Timmy seems to listen to you pretty well. At this rate, I might have to ask you to babysit sometime."

Ziva laughed. "I am not sure that is the best idea. But I will keep that in mind when making my weekend plans."

"You can...babysit me and Tony?" Timmy asked hopefully.

"Maybe," Ziva said. "Maybe."


End file.
